“Oh, okay. Well, that’s all you had to say.”
“That is what I said,” Paul answered.
I was glad to hear my brother’s voice break in before it got ugly between the two of them. “Okay, get on your bikes, and let’s head up to the trail. We need to scout out a location for the scene. We’re looking for a good jungle setting, so keep your eyes peeled.”
Steve whizzed by and then Perry. They were followed closely by the Johnson brothers, Mark and Brian. Mark was the older of the two and also going to be a senior. Brian was a year behind him but just as tall. The brothers were thick as thieves and always seemed to be smiling for one reason or another. Both were things I was a little jealous of given my current fraternal challenges. It wasn’t until years later when my eyes were opened to the ignorance and stupidity of racism that I came to understand our friendship with the Johnsons may have been considered by some of narrow mind to be unusual or even inappropriate. The concept of judging someone by the color of their skin seemed as strange to any of us as judging them by the color of their eyes, hair, shirt, or shoes. Black, white—it was all the same on Spindle. Now if you were rapidly approaching sixteen and still wearing Toughskins, that was an entirely separate matter—you would be judged, and judged harshly.
One of Mark’s familiar grins blossomed on his face as he rolled by. “Better get pedaling, Chris. Don’t wanna be left behind!”
“That’s right!” Brian added with a near-identical smile. “Don’t want the director getting mad at you for slowing us down. You know how he can get.”
I slipped between Kevin and Paul as we cruised down Stonybrook. Despite the sunny weather and cheerful mood of my companions, a familiar chill crept up my spine the closer we got to the bike trail.
“You okay, Chris?”
It was Paul’s voice. I realized I was staring at the rapidly approaching trail entrance like a fruitcake. “Sure, just kind of weird being back here is all. I’ll be fine.”
“Good, ’cause I don’t need you freaking out on me.”
With Steve still in the lead, our group rolled onto the trail. We kept it painfully slow for some time as the older guys commented on what scenery would be the best fit for the movie. We were about a minute away from the target when our crew slowed to standstill.
I pulled up next to my brother. “What’s the deal?”
“Mark and I think this place has potential. We’re gonna check it out.”
“No!” I belted the word out so loud that Mark jerked his head back. I realized I needed to dial it down pronto if I wanted a chance of winning my brother over. After taking a deep breath, I continued. “I mean, there’s a spot just a little farther down the path that is way sweeter than this. We should check it out.”
Steve got off his bike. “Keep your shirt on. We’ll look at this one first and then yours.”
“Man, Chris,” Mark added, “just cool it like your brother said.”
I watched the rest of them dismount—all except Kevin and Paul. If they chose this site before seeing the other, my carefully laid plans would be down the toilet. I had to think up something fast. “Steve, the other place is much better than this. Why don’t you let me show it to Paul and Kevin, and they can vouch for me? You guys have to at least give it a shot.”
Steve looked at Perry and the Johnson brothers with a blank face. “What do you think?”
Perry shrugged his shoulders.
Brian said, “Why don’t you let the three stooges check it out?”
“Fine, but no goofing around. I want to get this shoot going, and you’re already starting to get –”
I began pedaling before Spielberg had a chance to finish. “Thanks, be back soon!”
A couple of minutes later, we rolled up on the underbrush the creature had been lurking. Skidding to a stop, I dropped my bike in the dirt. I heard the rubber from Kevin and Paul’s tires as they slid out behind me.
“Is this it? Is this the place?” Kevin asked.
“Yep.”
“You think we’re okay?” Paul asked. “I mean, it’s just the three of us instead of seven.”
“I think so. It’s the middle of the day, and the other guys are within earshot. I’m sure we’re fine.” I had absolutely no idea whether we were in any actual danger. I was too stoked at the prospect of discovering something about the Goatman to care.
In a hushed tone Paul said, “I don’t see any blood.”
“Of course you don’t,” Kevin scoffed. “It’s rained a couple of times since Chris said he was here.”
“Whatever, numb nuts.” Paul mumbled.
“What was that?”
“Ssshh,” I said while pointing to the brush. “That’s where it was hiding.”
The three of us froze and stared at the grouping of stunted trees and bushes as if they were a pack of rabid wolves ready to attack at any moment.
I knew it was kind of a goofy thing to do, but I knelt down and picked up a good-sized branch from the ground. I was sure my friends were going to make fun of me. Instead, Paul grabbed his own stick, and Kevin scooped up a couple of broken chunks of asphalt that had crumbled away from the path.
I raised the branch in both hands and approached as my friends spread out in flanking positions. At least if I was attacked, they would have a chance to strike. Not that sticks and stones would be of much use against an ax-swinging, half-man, half-goat freak show.
The light of the mid-morning sun weakened the forest shadows. About ten feet away from our target, I saw we were in no immediate danger. “Looks like we’re clear; nothing’s back there. Now let’s spread out. I’m not sure how much time we have before Steve comes looking for us.”
We sifted the leaves and dirt and crawled through the surrounding bushes and brambles looking for something unusual or out of place. Kevin went so far as to start flipping over several large rocks—what he hoped to find I didn’t dare ask. We had all but given up when Paul blurted out, “What the heck is that?”
Kevin and I followed Paul’s gaze to a soaring white oak. Carved six feet up into the bark was a symbol:
“Freaky,” Kevin said. “Looks like someone must have chiseled that sucker in.”
I put an index finger on the design and traced the crescent shape and then the circle below. The cuts were smooth and a good inch deep. Something razor sharp with serious power had to have made those sweeping gouges. “I don’t think a knife could cut like that. Look how perfect it is. There are no hack marks or signs of whittling.”
Paul was next to touch it. “Maybe some kind of hook did it.”
“Or a claw,” Kevin added.
I was glad Kevin said it. This time I couldn’t be the one blamed for diving off the deep end. For one of the very few times in my life, I chose the path of caution. “What kind of an animal could carve something like this? Look, it’s almost a perfect circle and quarter moon.”
“If it was a person, they’re tall,” Paul said. “If they reached out straight in front to make these markings, they’d have to be at least six feet at the shoulder.”
“What do you think it means?” Kevin asked.
“Don’t know. I’ve never seen anything like it,” I said.
Paul kept his eyes locked